Even at that age, she could spot a cop from half a mile away. And could move quickly through shadows and crowds to let her family know trouble was coming, and help them get cleared out before it arrived.
So now, at twenty-seven years old, she could definitely spot when someone was following her.
This time it wasn’t a cop.
And this time her family had sold her out rather than working together. Well, not her family, her stepfather. He’d pretty much inherited Cassandra when her mother had died a few years after marrying him.
There had never been any love lost between her and Gordon, but this was low even for him. He must have gone to Ian Tambour personally and offered Cassandra to him on a silver platter. Offered his stepdaughter in trade for his own life. Tambour, a pretty high-level henchman in a Russian gang, was bad news. This Russian gang was known for drugs and sex trafficking. Cassandra had no idea why Gordon had decided to steal from them.
But Gordon had. And then Cassandra had made it worse when she’d helped release a group of women — some barely more than children — from a shipping container where they’d just been smuggled into the country by Ian Tambour.
So if the thugs following her were anything to go by, Gordon had killed two birds with one stone. He’d offered Cassandra to Ian as payment for his own debt, plus ratted out that she’d been the one to help the women escape.
Gordon had planned to deliver Cassandra to Tambour in Chicago, but she’d gotten word of it and had gotten the hell out. Had used the last of her money to get to New Orleans.
“Damn,” she muttered as the two guys split up and one headed across the street. She’d been about to do that herself, since the best way out of this situation was to head north. To get to a more populated area towards Bourbon Street where she could blend in then disappear.
Coming back to New Orleans had been a tactical error. She’d known it would be a risk, but it had been the only place she’d had any desire to go. Even if it meant she was running towards trouble instead of away from it.
She had no idea why she would want to see Dominic Rinaldi after seven years, she just known she’d wanted to with a desperation she couldn’t explain.
Not that he was ever going to talk to her again. He probably would want to kill her on sight.
Looked like he would have to get in line. Tambour had found her much more quickly than she would’ve thought. She had Gordon to thank for that, she was sure.
Cassandra had kept her pace steady, brisk, as most women walking alone would have, but not hurried enough to clue her followers that she was aware of them. But when she spotted a third man joining the one who crossed the street she knew the time for subtlety was gone.
It was time to run.
There were people around, but this wasn’t a good side of town. None of them were going to risk their own lives to help her, even if she started screaming. She was on her own.
She saw the alleyway across the street and immediately ran for it. This was her best shot. She just hoped she could get a few seconds on them so she could make it to the more crowded streets on the other end. Because if they caught her in the alley, it was all over.
She didn’t look back once she started running; she was either going to make it or she wasn’t. But three quarters of the way through the narrow alley a small smile lit her face. She was going to make it.
She was still running full speed when someone stepped out from behind one of the dumpsters lining the alley. The man used his weight to shove his shoulder into her torso and send her sprawling onto the ground. Ian Tambour stood over her, evil grin splitting his unattractive face. Too late, Cassandra realized she had been herded this way. They’d wanted her in this alley all along.
Ian pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at her. From the corner of her eyes she saw someone at the end of the alleyway looking in their direction, but when Ian pointed the gun at the person they obviously thought better of getting involved.
Ian’s booted foot came crashing into Cassandra’s midsection. She gagged and fought for air, curling her body protectively around itself.
“That’s for making me hide behind a fucking dumpster.”
Cassandra kept her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms around her head to protect herself from more blows as the rest of his men caught up with them. Ian pointed the gun at her again and she thought he would kill her right there.
“Grab her. It’s too crowded here. We’ll take her to the warehouse.”
Ian yanked hair and pulled her face back so he could see her. “Your daddy gave you to me. Somebody has to die for what was stolen. I guess he decided that would be you.”
“He’s not my father.” Of all the things she should be worried about, that was probably the least, but she said it anyway.
“I don’t give a shit. You’re a Clemens, he’s a Clemens. A Clemens stole from me, and a Clemens is going to pay for it. Although maybe we’ll have some fun first.”
Cassandra cringed as she heard Ian’s man laugh. She had to keep her wits about her, figure out how to survive this. How to get away.
Or how to make them kill her quickly. Because some things were worse than death and there was zero chance of anyone coming to her rescue.
Cassandra spent the next two days stripped down to her underwear and bra in a cage. It was a kennel really, big enough for a large dog or a small person like her.
Ian had been called back by his bosses to Chicago. It was the only reason Cassandra was still alive and unharmed. Unharmed was a relative word, but that’s the way she had to look at it: she hadn’t been raped, hadn’t been burned, cut, or beaten so severely she had internal injuries. The worst damage she’d actually done to herself, scratches on her arms to torso to try to keep herself calm.
If she wanted water or to go to the bathroom she had to ask one of Ian’s men. Who thought that any request should always come at a price, and that price was always removing her remaining clothes. Once they looked their fill, usually sneaking in a grope or two despite Ian’s threats to kill anyone who touched her, she was granted her request. Food hadn’t even been offered, not that her stomach would’ve been able to keep it down anyway.
Sleep hadn’t been possible either. Every time she tried, she had woken up with fingers probing between her legs or grabbing her breasts through the bars of the cage. Each of them were just waiting for the others to not be looking to take their chances with her. All whispered into the cage what they would do to her, graphically describing the ways they would fuck her if it wasn’t for Ian. Then pointing out that Ian would do it to her anyway and let them watch.
She ignored them, never giving them the satisfaction of knowing the terror their words instilled in her. Ian would be back soon — she had to get away before that happened, but every hour she grew more weak and exhausted.
She just wished she could lay down, go to sleep, and never wake up again. But that wasn’t an option. And once Ian returned the torture would really begin. She had to get out of here. Now.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” She hardly recognized her own voice it was so hoarse, thready.
The guys were a dozen yards away playing poker. They’d set up a small camp over there. A couple of couches, table, a small fridge. They even had a small TV, with a basketball game on at a low volume. They looked over at her.
One of them stood. “I feel like seeing some titties, I’ll take her.”
Cassandra felt the slightest bit of hope build up inside. The blond man, although the roughest with her body, was the smallest of the henchmen in the room. She had the best chance of getting away from him.
“Don’t bruise her, Ian will be back soon,” one of the others said. “He’ll kill all of us if if he thinks we disobeyed him.”
Blondie walked over and unlock her cage. Cassandra crawled out, barely stifling a groan as she was able to straighten herself all the way up to a standing position. She immediately felt Blondies hand on her ass.
“You know the dri
ll. Naked. Let’s see that pussy.”
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t give him any indication of what exposing herself to a barbarian like him cost her. She stood there naked as he walked all around her, not touching although so close she could hear him breathing.
She didn’t dare close her eyes. But she allowed her mind to float away.
Allowed herself to think of Dominic’s face, his dark good looks screaming his Italian heritage. Ironically, half the ways Ian’s men had described wanting to fuck her — taking her in the ass, forcing her to swallow their cum after deep-throating her, tying her spread-eagle to the bed and doing whatever the hell they wanted — Dominic had done to her when they were together seven years ago. And much, much more.
And she had loved it. Had planned to spend the rest of their life allowing him to do it.
So she thought of Dominic now as this animal who made her skin crawl reached over and tweaked her nipples with rough fingers. That move at Dominic’s hands would’ve left her panting, leaning in for more, but now just had her shuddering with revulsion.
Blondie’s palm cracked her on the ass drawing her attention away from the ghost of the man who wouldn’t save her now, even if he had the chance. She would have to save herself. And her only option was going to be running out of here naked.
Blondie walked her over to the tiny bathroom, staying much too close to her personal space. His fingers lightly touched the globes of her ass multiple times in the twenty meter trip. Once there, he pushed her between the shoulder blades toward the door.
“Hurry up. If I have to come in after you, I’ll make sure it’s worth my while for the trouble.”
Cassandra moved into the dirty bathroom, but left the door cracked. This would be it, her only chance. When she heard the other men cheer over something that happened on the basketball game she knew Blondie’s attention would be split. This was her chance.
She eased the door open and slipped through, and ran as quickly but silently as possible towards the opposite side of the warehouse where she knew there was a door. She probably had less than two minutes before Blondie realized she was gone.
Her hand paused at the door handle. If the noise didn’t clue the men in, the cool air from outside would. And she would soon be outside naked in the weather. New Orleans wasn’t too cold, even in November, but people at least tended to have jackets. She would worry about that, and the fact that she had no clue where she was, once she was out.
She grabbed for the door, but it opened right out from under her hand. Ian Tambour’s ugly face, full of surprise that morphed into anger, stood staring at her. He was back. And he was now very, very pissed.
“Going somewhere? I don’t think so.”
She couldn’t move fast enough. His fist flew out of nowhere and crashed into her face. Before she could even comprehend the blinding pain, he caught her by the arm and held her as his hand came back across, backhanding her. She felt herself falling to the floor as darkness spun around her.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you, bitch. You’re more trouble than yo…”
The black took her.
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